Cinders
by Cerberan
Summary: Taken from the battle of Atraken, clone commander Vathe and the men of the 72nd battalion are sent along with their jedi general to recover an important asset classified as 'object Gamma', that was lost above the outer rim world of Cyparia. A neutral world that claims to have no business with the war that is currently enveloping the galaxy. But all is not as it seems...
1. Chapter 1

_**Cinders**_

_**Chapter One**_

**Report made to Republic sector command from Arquitens-class light cruiser _Horizon_ at 0500 hours, galactic standard time.**

_All contact lost with Acclamator-class assault ship _Victus._ Preliminary scans of wreckage found in system suggest naval engagement. _Victus_ presumed destroyed with all hands. No sign of asset designated 'Gamma Zero'. Possibly retrieved by hostile forces. Possible republic personnel aboard _Victus_ managed to make planetfall on the systems' habitable world. Cyparia. Cyparian officials uncooperative, claiming neutrality. Recommend deployment of nearest GAR assets to retrieve the asset. Nearest GAR asset identified as follows: Seventy Second Battalion, under command of general Arbani Trask. ARC trooper 23. Acclamator-class assault ship _Persistence

**Acclamator-class assault ship _Persistence_**,** in orbit of Atraken, 107 days after the battle of Geonosis. 13:00 hours local system time.**

Commander Vathe of the seventy second battalion of the grand army of the Republic, removed his helmet, marked with the markings befitting his rank and the battalions bronze colour striping, and carefully set it on the desk he was seated at. The blank, T-shaped visor stared back at him, but that wasn't what had his attention. The Zabrak jedi with pale grey skin made even paler in the harsh light from the glow panel above did. The datapad that had moments before been activated and in the clones' hand was now blank screened and sitting on the desk between them.

"With all due respect, ma'am. Is this a joke?" Vathes' bronze skinned face, a shade lighter than his armour markings, remained impassive. But he couldn't quite keep the skepticism from his voice. A scar traced the right side of his jaw, terminating just under his ear. A souvenir of Geonosis. His eyes, the dark brown of his genetic template, met general Arbani Trasks' icy blue ones.

The corner of the generals' lip curled slightly. The closest thing she'd managed to a smile since the butchery down on Atraken. "I'm afraid not, commander. And I thought I'd asked you to call me by name when we were alone."

Vathe grimaced, annoyed by the jedis' casual disregard of proper protocol. Jedi were nothing like the mystical demi-gods he and his men had been taught to expect during their years of flash training on Kamino. They bled and died, just like the soldiers they commanded. They made mistakes, just like anyone else. The generals' metallic left hand, shining in the office light, was proof of that.

_His_ general, in particular, was...unique. At least that was the word Vathe chose to describe her. He'd met other jedi, of course, in the briefings after Geonosis, and the handful of battles that the seventy second had fought afterwards. Most of them were awkward, unused to being thrust into command roles. Some were aloof, and others were downright cold.

Arbani Trask however had been...warm, kind, eager to bond with her troops. 'Bonding' was something the training had not prepared Vathe or his brothers for. The men of the battalion were close, of course. 'Vode An'. Brothers all, so the mandalorians said. But the general, friendly as she was, was still an outsider. Despite her encouraging the men to call her by name, and choose names for themselves, progress was...slow.

Many had warmed to the idea of individuality, eager to break from the number system the Kaminoans had used to distinguish them. Whenever he had a chance to visit the mess hall aboard the 'Persistence', he heard brothers calling each other names, rather than numbers. He supposed it was encouraging. "A recovery mission to an unaligned planet. While there's a war to fight."

Arbani's flesh and blood hand strayed up to finger the ivory horns atop her skull. A nervous habit she'd developed since being assigned to the battalion. Her slender fingers traced the curvature of the short pieces of bone, resting on the tip of one, before jumping to another. "You know there's more to it than that," she gently chastised him, " the crew of the _Victus_ might be stranded down there."

Vathe found that extremely unlikely. Whoever had destroyed the _Victus_ probably wouldn't have been inclined to leave anyone alive. But in the last four months of the war, he'd seen all kinds of things he'd deemed 'unlikely to happen' happen. "Maybe," he conceded, "but wouldn't a team of jedi or sector authorities be more appropriate? We're not exactly equipped for search and rescue."

"No, but we're the closest available forces. Plus an Advanced Recon Trooper, who'll be meeting with us on Cyparia." The general reminded him, gesturing at the now deactivated datapad. She noticed the subtle sneer that marred Vathes' features. "You have a problem with ARCs?"

"No, general." A lie, but a minor one, and he wouldn't expect the general to understand, anyways. He hadn't met many ARC troopers, but those he had were universally...arrogant. Sneering at the rank and file troopers like they were somehow less important than them. The brutal truth of it was that they were. ARCs were trained to be better than normal grunts in almost every way. Infiltration, sabotage, assassination, to name a few of their functions.

'While we drop directly into the firestorm.' The thought caught Vathe by surprise. He knew his duty, and he knew that he'd been created to fight and die for the republic. That was simply how things were, and there wasn't anything he could do about it, except make sure his men made it through the war in one piece. The survivors of Geonosis and Atraken and other battlefields in between. "I'll brief the men."

* * *

Captain Brendin Perrick stood on the command bridge of the _Persistence, _feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back. For the past several hours, he'd been sitting in the command chair that was now several feet behind him. Now, that the several hour journey from the Atraken system was nearly over, it only felt right that he be on his feet to survey their destination. The silver-white of stars highlighting the purple-blue of hyperspace vanished as the Acclamator-class assault ship transitioned smoothly to real space. The gentle vibrations underfoot ceased as the hyperdrive powered down, and the sublight engines took over. "Sensors, report." His gaze shifted to the grey uniformed clone officer that stood at the sensor station.

"Sir. We're picking up lots of debris out there. It's been blasted into too many pieces for a hundred percent confirmation, but there's enough of it to suggest it was once an Acclamator."

Brendin glanced to the right, where first officer Chance stood, mirroring the captains pose. The clone was identictal to the rest of the bridge crew, identical to nearly every clone on board, in fact, but he'd served with Brendin for the four months since the start of the war. "Do you agree, number one?"

"It matches the report the _Horizon _sent us. Plus assault ships don't just disappear." Chance said quietly. Always quite that one, Brendin reflected and usually correct.

"Hmm." The captain rubbed a hand across his chin, the prickling of stubble reminding him that he hadn't yet shaved. His gaze was drawn to the world that was off to starboard, orbited by twin moons. Cyparia. He'd never heard of the planet, but being from the core, he imagined there were hundreds of worlds he'd never heard of. The information on the holonet wasn't much help. A terrestrial planet with cool temperatures all year long, three continents, sparsely populated, and fiercely independent. Despite pressure from both the Republic and the Techno Union. What resources the world had to offer for both the republic _and _the confederacy would be after it, Brendin didn't know. Didn't particularly care, either. So long as there was no confederacy blockade waiting for them, he was content.

Still, _something _had destroyed the _Victus_, or at least damaged it enough so that it was incapable of summoning help. The sensors hadn't picked up anything besides the debris field several hundred kilometres ahead of them. Clearly, the destroyed Acclamator hadn't had a chance to fight back."I want sensor sweeps every thirty minutes. Keep weapons and shields on standby. I don't want to be surprised like the _Victus _was." Of course, there was the possibility that whatever had destroyed their sister ship so outclassed them that no amount of counter measures would make much of a difference. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it, captain Perrick decided, shaking off the sudden feeling of vulnerability.

"Comms, are we being hailed by the Cyparians?"

"No,sir."

"I see. Well, let's see if they want to talk, shall we? Let them know a battalion will be coming to visit them shortly."

"Going to ask them nicely, captain?" Chance asked with a hint of grin.

"Yes. And them I'm going to tell them they'll be receiving visitors. I hear a warship can be quite persuasive."

The communications officer signaled him with an uplifted arm. "Channel open to Cypar city, captain."

"Attention, Cypar city." With no name or title to refer to, the captain was forced to be vague. "This is the republic warship _Persistence. _We are currently investigating the destruction of our sister ship, the remains of which are currently in your system. A battalion of republic troops will be landing within the hour. Hostile action is _extremely _ill advised." Intentions declared, Brendin waited for the response of whoever was in control on the world in the middle of nowhere.

"Ah, this is Cypar city." A voice replied, it was young, and sounded nervous. There was a slight accent, but nowhere near as coarse as the other outer rim accents he'd heard. " We do not consent to republic or any other troops landing on Cyparia. Nor do we have any information regarding the destruction of any republic vessels. Any landing will be seen as hostile action against sovereign Cyparian territory."

Brendin almost snorted at the absurdity of it. Composing himself, he stated "there seems to be some misunderstanding. I was not asking _permission_. Republic forces _will _be landing within the hour. Any hostile action will be met with appropriate force. _Persistence_,out."

With the communications cut, Chance turned to his commander. "That was a little blunt, wasn't it sir?"

"A little forcefulness is necessary when dealing with these outer rim types. Inform the general that she may proceed with the landing, and tell her not to expect a warm welcome. Detail a squadron of Torrents to cover their landing, but to not engage unless fired upon first." As the crew went about carrying out his orders, Brendin Perrick returned to the command chair and sat, satisfied that he'd carried out his duties to the best of his abilities. Now all that was left was to await the outcome of the generals' mission on the surface.

* * *

**Interceptor-class frigate _Last Laugh, _Lafra sytem, 01:00 hours local system time.**

Captain Damien Marsk was sat back in the command chair of his ship and idly flipped a vibro knife from one hand to the other. Most 'civilized' beings would call him a pirate. Those beings usually ended up being shot. Captain Marsk and his crew were 'enterprising businessmen' who happened to be exceptionally skilled at tracking down and 'recovering' items of interest. Usually for a ridiculous sum of credits. It was merely an unfortunately coincidence that those who happened to get in their way ended up dead. Or in the hold of the _Last Laugh, _wishing they were. With the republic sucked into what promised to be a bloody and _profitable _war, Marsk and his crew operated throughout the outer rim without consequence. So long as they steered clear of the powerful players, like the Hutts or Black Sun. Captain Marsk might have been greedy, but he wasn't stupid.

So when his communication officer told him he had someone calling him on an unknown channel, he immediately set his intelligence people to tracking it back to the source. They were a group of verpine slicers, some of the best, if they'd cracked half the secure systems they claimed to. And since they hadn't failed him yet, he almost dropped the blade he was tossing when they confessed failure. But he was intrigued as well. Holo-scramblers capable of blocking his slicers had to be damned expensive. Which meant two things. One, they were going to insane measures to avoid being identified, and the second, more important point- they had to be insanely wealthy. More than his 'usual customers'.

He signaled the comms officer to put the call through. "Damien Marsk here. Acquisitions specialist, among other things."

"Captain Marsk," the voice was pitched deep and crackled with interference. Almost certainly intentional. "I have a job for you."

The captain rolled his eyes, already irritated by his mysterious caller, he rolled his eyes "I kind of already figured that out. We don't get many social calls out here. What can the _Last Laugh _do for you?"

"There is an object that needs recovering. On the world of Cyparia, in the outer rim."

Cyparia. Marsk frowned, and glanced over at his first mate, Barusk-Dak,a towering barabel with dark grey scales and one glaring red eye. The other had been replaced by a cybernetic several years ago. The first mate shrugged, face as impassive as always. Clearly, he was no more familiar with the world than Damien. "Don't know anything about the place." He confessed, knowing how strange that was. The outer rim was a big place, but Marsk had spent most of his life either hunting other vessels, or being hunted by the authorities.

"This is not surprising" the voice reassured him, " Cyparia is a neutral world, and worthless to any one in the war, aside from a few key resources."

"What kind of resources?" The captain asked, already wondering how he could turn a profit from a world that hardly anyone seemed to know about. At the very least, it could serve as a base for the _Last Laugh _and her crew.

"That is not important. What is, is that you and your crew retrieve the object before the republic does."

Damiens' ideas of a pirate haven shattered at those words. If the republic was there, it wouldn't be long before the world was getting a whole lot more attention. But the situation wasn't a whole loss. "You want us to grab something out from under the republics nose. That'll cost extra."

"I anticipated as much. Twenty million credits are yours. Ten million when you accept, another ten when I have the object." Not _if _but _when _they accepted the job. Whoever this was, they were certainly full of themselves. Damien was aware of the eyes of the entire bridge crew had fixated on him. Twenty million was a lot of credits. And the _Last Laugh _could certainly use the upgrades that would buy.

"You have a deal. But I'm going to need to bring in some outside help. Because if the republic is there, that means those jedi, and my people aren't equipped to deal with some mystic with a lightsabre. "

"Do what you must. Information on the object is being sent to you, along with the nav-coordinates of Cyparia. I will be in contact."

And just like that, the channel was dead, and captain Damien Marsk was ten million credits richer, and trying to figure out a way to steal something from a republic force led by a jedi. Slowly, an idea came to him and as it formed, a grin spread across his rugged features. Snapping his fingers at the rodian comms officer, he said "get me Pyros Vehd."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

**Report made to Republic sector command, from Acclamator-class assault ship _Persistence_**

_Persistence arrived in the Cyparia system at 16:00 hours, local system time, and confirmed the wreckage in orbit belonged to the RAS _Victus. _No sign of object Gamma or hostile vessels. We are remaining on station to support general Trask and seventy second battalion as they make planet fall. No serious resistance encountered in orbit, and light to no resistance expected on the ground._

**Acclamator-class assault ship _Persistence, _in orbit of Cyparia, 107 days after battle of Geonosis. 17:00 hours local system time.**

Squadron commander CT-0204, known to his brothers as Faze, made his way across the _Persistence_s' hangar, helmet tucked under one arm, the other swinging freely. As his brothers in Sable squadron had pointed out, his name was somewhat ironic. Nothing seemed to disconcert him, as had been pointed out in the aftermath of a particularly risky sortie against the Seps in the battle of Arantara. Not without a sense of humour, Faze had adopted the name, and had joked about it with his brothers for days afterwards. Of course, no one was laughing now. Not because they faced a dangerous battle or were facing disciplinary action, but because of the nature of their newest mission. An escort mission, like dozens they'd flown before. Protecting the LAAT/i's against enemy fighters as they brought troops to the surface. Except this time, there _was _no enemy to fly against.

The only vessel in system was the _Persistence _herself, orbiting the world below. The short briefing the pilots of Sable squadron had received hadn't been big on details. The planet was Cyparia, some dirt ball that no one seemed to have any idea had existed until a few hours ago. It claimed neutrality, but if that was true, Faze wouldn't be about to escort the LAAT/i's 'larties' to the surface. It seemed a perfectly good waste of fuel for them to be flying cover when the 'enemy' couldn't even muster a proper space force. But Faze had his orders, and at least he wasn't stuck aboard the _Persistence. _

He navigated the crowded hangar bay, filled with mechanics, larty pilots, and troopers from the seventy second, with the same skill he navigated naval engagements, stepping around individuals, and cutting through the gaps between separate groups of troopers and mechanics. A few moments later, he became aware of a presence at his left elbow. The armour markings and breathing apparatus on the breastplate revealed it to be another pilot. Another one of his pilots, to be specific. "Trip," he greeted his brother, deftly sidestepping a cart laden with hydro-spanners and several other tools.

"Commander." Trip responded, matching Fazes' pace as they made their way to the landed V-19 Torrents of Sable squadron. The other ten pilots were already waiting at their ships, performing last minute checkups, or speaking to the mechanics. "Looks like we're late to the party."

"Shame. I always enjoy a good pre-flight diversion." The other pilots of Sable squadron stood at attention as Faze and Trip joined them. "At ease. This should be a blue milk run; we escort our larties in, make a show of looking fancy and then head back up to the _Peristence _for tea and cake. Copy?" A round of nods and affirmatives followed his announcement. They'd all been at the briefing, after all. But he didn't see any problem with going over it one last time. "Mount up. Perform pre-flight checks and be ready to launch." He put words to action, putting on his helmet and clambering up the ladder. Once inside the pilots seat, he flipped the switch to lower the cockpit canopy, sealing himself inside his fighter.

A grin spread across his face as he performed his own pre-flight checklist, bringing systems online and waiting for the go ahead from the deck officer. Even if it was unlikely he'd be using the Torrents' laser cannons or concussion missiles, he still felt more at home in the cockpit of a fighter than he did anywhere else. With everything on his board showing green, he flicked the switch for the Torrents repulsors, bringing the ship off the hangar decking and into a hover several meters up. The Torrents' wings folded down, ready for flight. "Sound off."

"Sable two, board is green" Trip replied, tone optimistic as ever.

"Sable three, ready" Jinx, dutiful and quiet.

The list went on, through the remaining nine pilots of Sable squadron. Satisfied his squadron was set, Faze opened a channel to the deck officer. "Control, this is Sable one. Squadron is ready for launch at your word."

"Copy that, Sable one. Squadron is clear for launch. Safe flying."

Faze edged his V-19 forwards, through the shimmering blue field of the hangar containment field, throttling up. His fighter responded magnificently, as it should have. Though there were no targets to blast, the pilot still felt a rush of adrenaline as the inertial compensators pushed him back in his seat. A quick glance at his sensors confirmed his expectations. The squadron was right with him, rushing out into space, forming a defensive screen, like they'd practiced thousands of times in simulation. Like they'd done dozens of times in actual combat.

He pulled back on his stick, bringing the fighter up and around, back towards the _Persistence. _Even viewed upside down, the assault ship was majestic. A testament to the strength of the republic navy. Righting himself, Faze saw the first of the LAAT/i's departing the hangar, angling towards the planet below. "Squadron, break off by wing pairs. When the first transport is on the ground, we'll circle back for the others." Affirmations flooded the comm, and Faze took up a position slightly ahead and to the left of the lead gunship.

The planet grew in his forward viewport, a mix of greens, blues, and whites, with a few specks of greys and browns near the equator. The troop transports headed north of the equatorial area, towards one of the northern continents. Noting the shift in direction, the flight commander made a minute adjustment to his own flight path, mirrored by Trip. Guarded by the squadron, the battalion gunships punched into the planet's atmosphere, the sound of their drives drowned out by the roar of the V-19's powerful engines.

"Lead, seven here, contacts headed our way." Sable seven reported, "point three-five." Faze glanced at his sensors, at the coordinates indicated by his squadmate. Nine blips, coloured a neutral yellow on his monitor closed in on the Torrent squadron. The range finder indicated they were currently twelve hundred metres from them, and looking out his canopy, he could only make them out as dark specks against the pale blue sky.

"Copy that." He said, setting his fighter on an intercept heading, the other sables falling behind him. "Remember, don't engage unless you're fired upon first. These people aren't enemies."'_so far' _he added silently as acknowledgements followed his words.

* * *

Inside the troop bay of the lead LAAT/i, commander Vathe clutched one of several grab rails that spanned the length of the bay. His DC-15s carbine was held in his other hand. His helmet's T-shaped visor was fixed staring dead ahead, at the port side blast door sealed against the vacuum of space. Around him, the men of Aurek company's first platoon crowded the gunship to capacity. The red lighting of the gunship's interior painted their armour a pinkish-red. The IM-6 medical droid sat secure in its locker, silent and motionless until it was needed. If all went to plan, it wouldn't be, but the commander knew most plans tended to fall apart the moment bolts started to fly.

On the hour long trip to the Cyparia system, Vathe had taken the time to read up on the world they were headed to. As he'd noted in the initial mission brief from command, the world was isolated, rugged, and apparently unaligned with either side in the war. So far, anyways, and the commander was no long sure that was the case. _Something _had happened to the _Victus_. Something so sudden that none of the crew had even managed to get out a call for help. Intelligence believed the ship had been ambushed, either from a surface to space weapon, or a separatist fleet lurking nearby. For once, Vathe was inclined to agree with them. Which meant the allegedly neutral Cyparians would not be happy to have a battalion of clones arriving on their doorstep.

At the mission briefing with the general and the officers of the seventy second, they'd identified the capital as Cypar city, located in the northern hemisphere. They'd decided to land the troops just outside of the city for two reasons, the first being that it would be easier to coordinate with the local leadership due to proximity. The second, as a show of force, to dissuade any interference from any locals that were feeling less than hospitable. Captain Perrick of the _Persistence _would remain in orbit, on the lookout for any separatist reinforcements and to provide heavy fire support to the troops on the ground.

After contact was established with the Cyparian leadership and their cooperation acquired, the plan was simple. Gunships would coordinate with the Cyparians to search possible crash sites, seeking survivors from the _Victus,_ and whatever 'object Gamma' was. Neither Vathe nor the general had been able to find anything about it besides that it was to be recovered at all costs, and that it had almost certainly survived the destruction of the acclamator that'd been carrying it. Once both it and any survivors were secured, the seventy second would be off Cyparia and back to the war. '_If the war's not already waiting for us down there. If we're not walking into an ambush.' _

Turbulence shook the gunship as it entered the atmosphere, and the clatter of loose gear and shaking of deckplates filled the troop bay. A hand grabbed his bodysuit, the narrow space between his gauntlet and armoured glove. Looking to his left, he met the icy blue eyes of his general, which seemed, as always, to stare through his visor, meeting his own as if he wore nothing at all. Her lips moved, but the noise in the bay drowned out anything she was trying to say. "What? I can't hear you."

She frowned, then shook her head. Underneath his helmet, Vathe scowled. She didn't have her earpiece in, apparently. Or it wasn't on. He scowled, silently cursing the jedi habit of relying on their senses rather than tried and tested tech. It'd get her killed, one of these days. Cranking up the volume on his external speakers, he repeated "I can't hear you."

Recognition blooming on her face, she tapped her left ear twice, activating the comm-bead embedded within. Her hand then drifted lower, to her neck, where a throat mic rested on a thin leather collar. The trooper plates Vathe had acquired for her and insisted she wear were visible under her robes. Feedback crackled in his ear, but when the general's lips moved again, he heard her clearly. "I said, ' you seem troubled, commander.' "

"Just going over the plan one more time." He assured her, keeping his doubts from his tone.

Her expression shifted to skeptical, and he silently cursed her jedi powers. Of course she wouldn't fall for that. "What's _really _troubling you?"

Resisting the urge to sigh with exasperation, he said "Cyparia. We don't have enough intel to determine whether they're as neutral as they seem to be, or if there's a legion of battle droids waiting for us down there. Acclamators' don't tend to blow up on their own."

She tilted her head, considering his words. "You're not wrong," her voice was thoughtful, but it shared none of the concern he felt, "I will keep my senses alert. If the Cyparians are hiding something, we'll find out."

"As you say, ma'am." He replied dutifully, loosening his grip on the grab rail as the larty left the worst of the turbulence behind. "Switching to the command channel."

With a click of his teeth, he switched to the battalion command channel, and was immediately flooded by the commanders and confirmations between the battalion officers. Major Tel, Vathe's second in command, was mostly silent besides the occasional addition to orders given by company captains. Lieutenants reported their platoons ready, relaying the information they'd received from squad sergeants.

A click in his ear signaled a newly opened channel. "Landing zone in sight," the gunship pilot reported, "ETA to ground side, three minutes."

The commander spoke up, reviewing the briefing he'd held an hour earlier. "Remember, the Cyparians are considered neutral. That means we're not going in guns blazing. But keep your eyes open. Odds are that they won't be happy with us setting up camp outside the capital. I want a perimeter established once were on the ground. Get patrol routes and sentry posts set up. Coordinate with your fellow company officers to work out the details. I expect schedules on my desk an hour after we hit the ground."

A chorus of acknowledgements met these words, and Vathe felt a surge of pride at just how well organized his men were. He could justly be accused of running a tight battalion, but he rewarded excellence in the field, and expected nothing less. Though they weren't exactly equipped for search and recovery, but a stop on a neutral world like Cyparia would be a welcome break from the carnage of Atraken.

The gunship decelerated as it closed on its' objective, and the durasteel doors slid open, revealing the plains and hills around the landing zone. Beyond them Vathe noticed tall trees trunks a dark brown, and deep green foliage, the branches angling towards the ground. The ship slowed further, until it wasn't moving at all, and lowered towards the ground. "Go." The troopers in front of him surged forwards, stepping out of the gunship's troop bay and onto the ground of Cyparia. They spread out, rifles at the ready, clearing the area around the gunship. Vathe and general Trask were in the second wave to step out, followed accompanied by several other troopers, who joined their comrades in the first line, merging into their squads.

"Area secure, sir." Lieutenant Hast reported, the blue chevrons that marked his rank standing out against the bronze trim of his armour.

"Acknowledged. Proceed with deployment, and link up with captain Ardis and the rest of Aurek company."

"At once." The lieutenant obeyed, taking his leave with a crisp salute and turning on his heel, deploying the platoon under his command with sharp gestures and spoken commands.

More larties had landed, disgorging their troopers who quickly went about hauling crates of ammunition, rations, and medical supplies from the transports. Four of the gunships were notably different with cargo carrier arms mag clamped to the hulls of all terrain tactical enforcers. More commonly referred to as 'walkers' the AT-TE's were dropped a couple meters from the ground, their six legs absorbing the impact of landing on the frozen ground. The mass-accelerator cannons on atop the walker's swiveled in a wide arc, offering ranged support to the troopers as they secured a perimeter.

The carriers, LAAT/c's headed back into orbit, to retrieve fuel containers for the walkers and their fellow gunships. Vathe looked up at the pale blue of the sky, which was steadily surrendering to the oranges and purples of twilight. Nothing visually unusual to the planet's atmosphere, and his helmet filters didn't detect any airborne toxins, either. Off to the east, large grey clouds approached, threatening rain or snow. The ground under his feet gave only slightly under his weight, and with a soft crunch that indicated that the soil was frozen most of the planetary year.

A sudden breeze originated from the same direction of the approaching clouds, and beside him, general Trask hugged her robes close to herself. Her trooper armour was adequate protection, but without the bodysuit, she was exposed to the elements. "Cold?" Vathe asked.

She glanced at him "the sooner we get the camp set up, the happier I'll be. I'd kill for a hot cup of caf right about now."

"You could wait in one of the walkers. Warmer than standing out here."

At that moment, one of the troopers on the perimeter duty raised the alarm. "Incoming from the city, commander. Looks like a whole convoy."

"Acknowledged. Maintain positions, we're on our way."

The general smiled ruefully at him "change of plans, I take it?"

"Sorry,general. Looks like the Cyparians have noticed our landing. Ready to go say hello?"

"I suppose so. Let's hope they're open to friendly negotiation."

The clone and jedi walked side by side towards the city in the distance. A cloud of white dust thrown up by repulsorcraft headed in their direction, indicated the progress of the oncoming Cyparians. By the time Vathe and the general reached the northern edge of the camp, the lead vehicle was arriving. It was coloured a matte grey, with a gold crescent on a pale blue circle on the hood. Its frame was wide and bulky, hinting at armour plating, and its' viewports were tinted so that the driver and passengers weren't visible.

No weapons were visible on the speeder but, the half a dozen beings who stepped out were certainly well armed. All of them carried a blaster rifle, a sidearm, and a pair of grenades on their belts. Sheathed blades rested opposite the holstered pistols. The men and women, three humans, a nikto and a couple of weequay all wore identical matte grey blast armour and helmets, with knee length pale blue robes underneath. They didn't direct the weapons towards the clones or the jedi beside Vathe, but their body language indicated they were more than ready for action.

A second and third speeder came to a stop, the third moving around the second so that its' passengers were shielded from incoming fire. More beings like those from the first stepped out and joined their comrades. The door to the second speeder opened, and two men stepped out, one was heavy set, thick necked and in a military uniform. A pistol was holstered on his belt, but nothing else. The second man was older, and much more regal looking with a thick coat of dark fur, and a white, bushy collar protecting against the wind. His hair was hidden underneath a similar cap, but his face was lined, and thin white eyebrows sat over a pair of deep blue eyes.

Vathe assumed he was at the least a high ranking functionary, sent by the planet's rulers. He moved with serene grace towards the republic camp, the soldiers moving to keep themselves between him and the clones. The general moved to meet him, and Vathe followed in her wake, at the same time speaking into his helmet communicator. "Lieutenant Hast. Form your platoon in a defensive arc between the general and the Cyparians."

"Copy that, commander."

A moment later, the troopers of Aurek company's first platoon moved forwards to mirror the Cyparian bodyguards. The general had stopped, close enough to the Cyparian official that they could speak without the wind stealing away their words. Vathe took up a position at her right elbow, slightly behind her, and waited for the negotiations to proceed.

* * *

Arbani stepped forwards, out of the protective cordon created by a platoon of her troopers. She was aware of the curious stares of the dozen armed soldiers facing her, and the heavy set human who'd stopped just outside his own cordon, and half a step behind the older human. She sensed no fear from the assembled Cyparians. Apprehension, yes, indignation, certainly, but they didn't fear the republic battalion. That was good. A rash decision borne out of fear would see the whole mission devolve into a war between the seventy second and the locals. Something she was very keen on avoiding.

Over head, the V-19s that had escorted the gunships to the planet's surface merged with the planetary fighters, circling each other warily, but neither side seemed eager to fire the first shot. That was also good. The longer the two sides managed to cooperate, the more likely it was that Arbani and the seventy second could complete their mission and return to the greater war. But like Vathe had said, there was no guarantee the Cyparians were neutral or even friendly. The older man stepped closer, hands at his sides and in plain view. He did not seem overly worried to be facing a jedi, or the platoon of clone troopers arrayed in a defensive semi circle between them. But she sensed only a little anxiety, and less hostility.

The jedi knight stepped forwards and bowed at the waist. Before she could speak, the old man did so, stepping close to her with a crooked smile and a sparkle to his eye. "I _would _welcome you to Cyparia, but it seems you've already made yourselves quite at home. So allow me to introduce myself; I am Ramiek Solomos. Prime minister of Cyparia, and ruler of Cypar city. This," he gestured to the large man a step behind him. "Is colonel Armond Croskov. Commander of Cyparia's defences." Besides a slight rolling of his R's, the man could have been from one of the core worlds. '_The only thing he's missing is an attitude of smug superiority.' _

Arbani sensed her confusion echoed by Vathe, at her shoulder. Neither of them had been expecting such a formal welcome, and certainly not without some hostility. "I am jedi knight Arbani Trask." She nodded to the commander, "and this is my colleague, commander Vathe of the seventy second battalion." The clone nodded towards Ramiek, his aura still guarded. "I apologize for landing in such force, but we are on an urgent mission."

"Ah. And what would that mission be? I do not think it has anything to do with the people of Cyparia. We have always been neutral, or at least for as long as I can remember. The republic and other parties were interested in our Auridium mines, but we have not done business since they closed down, almost a decade ago."

"Other parties?" She latched onto the vague term, "like separatists?"

"Yes...but as I said, they lost interest once they realized our mines were no longer open for business. And I can assure you, there are no separatists hiding in the wilds, if that's what you're thinking."

He gave a smile that was most likely meant to be reassuring, but Arbani only barely kept her expression neutral. The old man was hiding something, but she still picked up no hostility from him. No dark intent. "Our mission is search and rescue. A republic cruiser was destroyed in Cyparian space, but we believe some survivors may have landed on the planet."

The two men exchanged glances. "Our sensors detected the destruction of what must have been your vessel. But if there were survivors, none have made themselves known to us. My condolences." He seemed genuinely sorry, though Arbani could still sense that he was hiding something from her. But she had no desire to push too hard and turn the so far cooperative Cyparians against them.

"I understand that, but our forces have access to republic channels, and with your blessing, we'd like to examine possible crash sites. I'm more than happy to have my troops provide security from separatists while we are here."

A spike of concern from Ramiek drew her attention, and this time he exhibited it physically as well, furrowing his brow. "I can assure you, that there are no separatists on Cyparia. But you are welcome to stay and conduct your searches. And you, master jedi, shall be my honoured guest, at the palace."

Vathe was instantly on guard. Arbani couldn't blame him; the offer seemed genuine, but she wasn't sure how the rest of the Cyparians would receive the leader of a republic battalion. Plus, until she found out what the prime minister was hiding, being in an area where he was in control seemed like a bad idea. But then, so was offending the leader of a planet. Instead of a blunt refusal, she asked "what about my troops? I need to be close enough to react to any situations."

The colonel snorted, "not possible. A battalion of foreign troops in the capital? We might as well surrender now."

"They'd be strictly for your protection." The jedi assured the pair of Cyparians.

"Be that as it may, I cannot allow such a force into our capital. Your troops will have to remain here." Ramiek said, looking somewhat apologetic.

"Then I regret to inform you that I'll be remaining here. You know where to find us."

Ramiek frowned "perhaps there is a compromise. Select a squad of troopers to accompany you. We will allow one of your transports access to the city, if you accept."

Arbani sensed Vathes' suspicion spike at the words. However, the offer did intrigue her, and she sensed no duplicity behind his words. "May I have some time to think on it?"

"Of course. We will wait until tomorrow morning for your ship. On behalf of the people of Cypar city, I look forwards to your visit." With those words, Ramiek turned away, returning to his ground speeder with the colonel in tow. Once the two men were secure in the vehicle, the Cyparian soldiers retreated to their own speeders, and the convoy headed back towards the city in the distance.

The commander waited until Arbani had turned towards the nearly assembled camp before speaking, his voice skeptical as it emerged from the expressionless helmet he wore. "You're not seriously considering this offer, are you?"

"Why not? We may need the help of the Cyparians, and agreeing to this might be the way to do so."

"Because," Vathe growled, "for all we know, the prime minister could be a separatist sympathizer. This could be a trap."

Her mind jumped to the sensation she'd felt when Ramiek had assured her their was no separatists on Cyparia. "Maybe. But the best way to foil a separatists trap is to spring it." She shot him a smile, and felt a sense of resignation come over him. Vathe was as loyal as they came, and undeniably reliable, but he sometimes forgot that she was a jedi knight, and fully capable of taking care of herself. The general and clone commander walked side by side through the assembling camp, a prefab barracks, med bay and mess hall were being set up by a team of droids, overseen by a group of troopers. Nearby, fuel and supply crates were being unloaded and moved to their designated areas.

"As you wish." He sighed, "I'll select a squad of troopers to go with you in the morning. Maybe sergeant Gage and squad three."

Arbani nodded, "Gage is a good choice. Level headed and focused. There shouldn't be any problems with the locals."

"I'll have captain Ardis clear his squad of camp duties until you return."

She nodded again "thank you, Vathe. If there's nothing else, I'll be in my quarters." She took her leave of the clone, and headed to the barracks. Her 'quarters' was a partitioned off area, with a desk in one corner, and a small folding cot in the other. Settling down on the cot, she removed her armour until she was clad in the traditional tunic and robes of her order. With a sigh, she lay on the firm bed and set her mind to working at what exactly the supposedly neutral Cyparian prime minister might have to hide from the republic.

* * *

_**So that's chapter two up! I should be able to upload a new chapter every two weeks, sooner if I have the time. Since I forgot to ask in chapter one, please feel free to review and let me know what you think!**_


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